


We Appreciate Your Patience

by Medie



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-29
Updated: 2010-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-09 05:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/83643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is Doctor Lenore McCoy. Len to my friends, Bones to one particularly stunning, if occasionally idiotic best friend, and Lieutenant Commander McCoy to the entirety of the goddamn Starfleet Command. Call me Doctor, call me McCoy, or hell, call me Kahn Noonien Singh, but I swear to God, you call me ma'am or Mrs. McCoy one more fucking time -- " Len breathes in, then out, and in again. She owes Jocelyn flowers. Hell, she owes Jocelyn flowers, candy, and Tholian silk for dealing with this bullshit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Appreciate Your Patience

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://andrealyn.livejournal.com/profile)[**andrealyn**](http://andrealyn.livejournal.com/) who was having a VERY bad day that involved very bad customer service.

"Mrs. McCoy -- "

"_Doctor_," she grits out, fingers curling into her palms, digging sharp. "It's _Doctor_ McCoy." She doesn't bother correcting her marital status. Whoever the fuck is on the other end of the wavy lines on the screen sure as hell doesn't give a damn about it.

"Doctor Mrs. McCoy -- " the voice tries again. "I'm sure you'll understand, a woman in your profession and such, how difficult this is for us. There's only so much that can be done, ma'am, and, unfortunately, it takes time."

"Time?" Len snorts. She lowers her head and breathes deep, trying to remember that, yes, the poor kid on the other end of the call is, exactly that, just a kid and not responsible for company policy. She tries, but, hell, for all she knows, they're using the best voice synth system in the business and she's talking to a 92 year old, chain-smoking (does anyone even, anymore? She cringes thinking about it) grandmother from Duluth. "Does anyone in any universe still buy that bullshit story?"

"Ma'am--"

"_Doctor_ McCoy," she grits out. "It is Doctor Lenore McCoy. Len to my friends, Bones to one particularly stunning, if occasionally idiotic best friend, and Lieutenant Commander McCoy to the entirety of the goddamn Starfleet Command. Call me Doctor, call me McCoy, or hell, call me Kahn Noonien Singh, but I swear to God, you call me ma'am or Mrs. McCoy one more fucking time -- " Len breathes in, then out, and in again. She owes Jocelyn flowers. Hell, she owes Jocelyn flowers, candy, and Tholian silk for dealing with this bullshit.

She presses her fingers flat against the console, eying the chipped red polish that was a leftover from Johanna's last visit. She rubs her thumb against one particularly ruined nail, remembering her daughter painting it with a set jaw. She'd focused on her task with all the single-minded determination of a Klingon planning an invasion.

Swallowing against the sudden tightness in her throat, she focuses on the screen again. The wavy lines are flat with silence as the rep on the other end of the call no doubt conferred with superiors.

"Doctor," a new voice says, finally. Ah. She recognizes that put upon, harried tone. Supervisor. Joy. Bliss. "I'm --"

"In so much trouble, man," Jim drawls from the doorway. "Bones has people from here to Qo'nos and back scared to death of her."

She shoots a glare at him, sitting back. The glare more than easily conveys the 'do not EVEN, Jim' but she speaks before he can get the chance to ignore her. "As I was saying, I don't much give a damn what your name is, your relationship to the last agent was, I'm going to make this short and sweet. You lot have had me dancing around like a performing bear for six damn months. Fix this and fix it fast. Else-wise, I borrow the barracuda my ex-wife calls a lawyer and turn him loose on you and yours."

Len slaps a hand down on the console, ending the call. As soon as the connection's broken, she lets loose with a stream of profanity that has Jim's eyebrows creeping upwards.

"Wow," he says, when she pauses for breath, "even for you, Bones, that was truly impressive."

"Just getting warmed up," she says. "Haven't even gone offworld yet."

Jim laughs and walks over. His hands on her shoulders, he draws her up and out of the chair. "Okay, then, no more Andorian porn for you. You're supposed to watch that stuff for the sex, Bones, not the fancy swear words."

She snorts. "Jim? One spouse damn near obliterated my life. You think there's any part of me that's gonna find having three of them sexy?" She pictures herself married to three Jocelyns and is both appalled and, well, horny as fuck.

Jim laughs, his thumbs working slow circles on her shoulders. "If you've got a pulse, yeah. Imagine the ex-sex."

"Thanks, but no," she says. "Too busy imagining the alimony."

"Ahh, but we work for Starfleet," he reminds her, stepping closer. There were many things about being friends with James Tiberius Kirk that Len hadn't seen coming, but the slow obliteration of anything called personal space where he was concerned definitely hadn't been one of them. She's still hung up on the part where she doesn't care. She should. With anyone else, she totally would, but Jim's not everyone else.

"So?" she says, leaning into him.

"So, we work for Starfleet. I have it on good authority that the JAG Corps has the best family law practice in the quadrant." Jim squeezes. "They totally top Jocelyn's barracuda. Pretty sure some of them know their way around corporate law too. Enough to make your little friends of the vid-blocking customer service department sorry they ever heard the name Doctor Mrs Lenore Bones Kahn Noonien Singh McCoy."

She pinches him. He yelps, but doesn't release her. "Just saying," he adds, softer. "I got your back, Bones." It's quietly stated, devoid of any sexual innuendo whatsoever, and she believes it with every fiber.

"I know," she replies.

He smacks a kiss into her hair and lets her go. "Good, because if you want me to bust a couple heads, I can totally do that too." And he would. She's seen Jim's protective side in action. She's never needed it directed her way, but definitely flown wingman on a few personal missions to that effect and she knows how Jim treats his friends. Takes care of them.

She turns around, catching his hand. "Pike's right, you know."

"I -- " Jim stops. "Okay, I know I can change topic at warp ten, but I'm pretty sure I have no idea where that came from."

Len laughs. "I said, Pike is right." This time, she steps into his personal space, eye to eye with him. Maybe a little taller. She likes that idea. "You're going to make one hell of a captain, Jim Kirk." She thinks about explaining it, but can't make the idea form into any words that don't sound completely ridiculous.

She settles for squeezing his hand. It's probably that cue that leads to the next part. Namely, that is, the part where Jim leans into kiss her cheek, but, inexplicably, veers off at the last second and goes for her mouth instead.

No, actually, it's more like she veers at the last second, wanting his lips on hers, but Len also knows how that game is played. Sometimes, it's just better to let Jim think it was his idea.

More fun when he realizes otherwise.

With that being quite a while away, Len decides to take advantage of the here and now.

It's not that she and Jim haven't done this before. They have. There's even a system. The night before his birthday, they fall into bed, they don't come up for air until the day after. Same deal for her wedding anniversary.

(Funny how, before the divorce, she could never remember the day, but couldn't forget the second it finalized)

They've done this before, a little bit drunk or a whole lot traumatized, but this time they're neither. Sure, she's aggravated as hell and her blood pressure's dancing a salsa number, but they're nowhere near 'oh god, Jim, fuck me stupid' levels of bad.

This is something else, something that makes her breath catch and her knees knock, and fuck if she owes crappy customer service for hooking up with Jim?

She will phaser something.

Jim slides to his knees. His fingers are ineffectual on the buttons of her shirt and, while she works on them, he settles for tugging it up. She finally yanks the thing over her head and starts stumbling backward. "I am too damn grouchy to do this on the floor," she says, tugging Jim to his feet. "Also, you need to be more naked. Those idiots are going to be calling back in a few minutes and I plan on being a lot more relaxed when they do, got it?"

His shirt comes off with one step, his pants with the next, and by the time they reach the bedroom door, she's leading him by his cock and not his hand.

"I think I have the gist of it, yeah," Jim agrees and follows her inside.

Once inside, he grabs for her with his hands, fingers connecting with her waistband. She lets him go as he gives a little tug and a step. She turns, twists, and then she's in his arms. He looks down at her with eyes that communicate something she's not sure he'll ever be able to say. That's something she understands. Until Jim, she'd never met anyone as fucked up with people as she is.

She looks at him with a little half-smile. It's the best she can do to say 'Yeah, I get it' until the second they close the distance between their mouths. The kisses are familiar, easy, but with an edge of growing need and desperation until Jim's hands begin to roam. She lets them press her closer to him, her own hands taking on a life of their own, and squirms against his hardness. Her hips roll, rubbing, earning herself a groan of pleasure from him.

Pushing her hands beneath his pants, she presses her palms flat against the heated skin. He makes another noise, eager, and they start stumbling in the direction of the bed. The rest of their clothing gets shed along the way and they half-slide, half-fall onto the bed together in a messy tangle of limbs. She nips a kiss into his chest and then licks over the slick skin. She repeats it again and again until he's the one arching against her. Thrilling to the power of him virtually helpless beneath her hands, Len starts to slide downward. She wants to feel him heavy in her hand, in her mouth, before slowly taking him apart. The deconstruction of Jim Kirk. She pictures it, hears his pleas for more, for godyesrightthereBonesFUCK, and smiles all the wider.

"Gonna kill me," he warns, hands tangling in her hair.

"Lucky thing, I'm a doctor," she retorts, laughing. "Don't you worry, Jim, I always fix what I break."

She lays hands on his thighs, pulls herself across and onto one of them. He hisses when she rubs herself along his skin, slick and sensitive, and she licks her lips, taking him in hand. She rubs her fingers over the heated skin, listening to his breathing as she leans down.

One of his hands curls tight in her hair. She sucks him in fast enough that he yelps, swears, his hand flexing. "God, Bones, I -- " whatever he'd been about to say is lost when she pulls back and does it again.

By the time, she lets him go with a pop to grin at him, Jim's splayed out on his back, eyes heavy and breathing fast. "You say something, Jim?" she asks, fingers taking up the task for her, jacking him steadily.

His reply is an incoherent groan that brings a laugh from her. He lifts his head, looking at her, and tries again. "Where the hell did you get that?"

"Pent up frustration," she rubs a thumb over his tip, pleased by the way his eyes roll. "You'd be surprised what that can do for a lady's imagination."

"Not now I won't," he mutters. He sits up, curling fingers around her wrist. "My turn."

"I'm not done yet," she says, her own tightening.

He presses his lips together, breathing in, and she's a little smug by the length of time it takes before he can speak again. "Yeah, you are," he says. He looks at her with a smirk of his own. "Believe me, Bones, when I come, it's going to be balls deep in you."

She's tempted to argue, smart back, but, truth be told, she's got absolutely no problems with that idea.

Letting him go, she gives way with a teasing bow. It's an awkward shuffle after that, switching around, but Len enjoys it. The slide and press of skin as they move is enough that her breath comes all the quicker way before Jim finally puts his lips to her skin.

He's in no hurry, the bastard, and Len feels her frustration start to build in time with her arousal. Jim's lips tease and skim the swell of her belly, his fingers pressing into the skin of her thighs, but none of the punch she knows that talented mouth is capable of.

"Jerk," she mutters, lifting her head to watch him suck a mark into the skin of her hip.

She catches his quick smirk. "Come on, Bones," he says, thumb rubbing the slick, reddened skin, "I can't just rush this." He sits back on his heels. The look on his face raises heat in Len's. She's not sure what to do with this Jim. She knows the lovable idiot that Jim presents to the world, she knows the secret genius who stays up nights dissecting Starfleet's greatest victories and failures, and the cad rumored to have flirted his way through half of San Francisco. She knows those versions of him, but he's staring at her the way she's caught him staring at the stars and Len doesn't know what to do with that.

Raised onto her elbows, she lifts one foot to skim his thigh. "Jim?"

He smiles. "Fine, Bones, I'm just enjoying the view."

Before she can question him, he ducks between her thighs and gets down to business. Len's not prepared for the ferocity of his mouth. She digs her feet into the bed, feeling the sheets worn nubby beneath her skin, her hips rising with the force. Jim laughs a little, his hands taking hold of her and pushing down again. "Hang on, Bones," he says, in a voice that makes her toes curl, "You're going to miss the good part."

She laughs. "Whenever you're ready."

"Believe me Bones," he says, in a murmur that, she thinks, she isn't supposed to hear, "for you, I'm always ready."

It's instinct to roll her eyes, but she doesn't. As ridiculously cheesy as it could sound, it isn't. Not from him. Not now. She reaches out, tangling a hand in his hair, and tugs a little. Jim doesn't argue, doesn't fight it, just rises into the kiss and buries himself in her in the same moment. It's not the first time, not even the most passionate, but they're not looking for that. At least, she's not.

Maybe in the beginning with irritation and annoyance singing in her veins. Not now. Wrapping him up in her body, Len holds on and rides out the thrusts with him. It's funny that coming is almost an afterthought, but it is.

She's surprised by the way it steals over her, sneaking beneath her guard, and takes her breath. Even when she hears Jim groan, her name a broken syllable on his lips, she's not expecting it.

"Huh."

"_Huh_?" Pushing up, Jim looks down at her. "Excuse me?"

There's just enough genuine confusion to his attempt at playfully wounded pride that she laughs and kisses him. "Relax, Romeo, the sex was out of this world, fantastic, blew my mind -- " she tips her head. "Should I keep on going or are you okay?"

Jim rolls his eyes. "Yeah, Bones, my soul and manly ego are sufficiently crushed. Please continue."

She kisses him again, he's cute when he's clueless, and shrugs. "Not much to go on about."

"You said 'huh', Bones." Flopping on the bed beside her, Jim wraps one arm around her waist and props himself up on the other. "A guy is going to get nervous when a woman's reaction to sex is one word and that word's not 'ohmygodthatwasthebesteverDeltansshouldbetakingnotesohmygod'."

Mulling that over, Len blinks. "Do you stay up nights thinking that shit up? Or does it just come naturally to you?"

"Seriously," Jim says, "stomp on me again, Bones. I can take it."

Laughing, she pushes him over onto his back. "You surprise me, Jim Kirk," she says. "That's not a bad thing, so shut up and kiss me again or I swear to God, I am kicking you out of this bed and calling Pike."

"_Captain_ Pike?" Jim perks up. "Something you want to tell me, Bones?"

She growls and kicks him out anyway. Pike does wear a uniform well. Worth trying, she thinks.


End file.
